“Yes, and to my private address.”
“Apparently somebody who knows you.”
“Looks like it.”
“Come by post?”
“Postmark?”
“Two Cartordale, the third Midlington. Now, is the writer merely a crank, or has he something up his sleeve?”
“If you do nothing he’ll probably write again and may be more explicit.”
“Well, of course, Thoyne is very deep in this thing, but there is nothing definite connecting him with the murder—is there?”
But I merely shook my head vaguely at that. In this curious case one never knew what a day might bring forth. The changes and developments were as rapid as a cinema show.